I don't hate you
by Goonlalagoon
Summary: Seven brief snapshots of Dudley's changing opinion of Harry between Order of the Phoenix and Deathly Hallows. Reviews would be welcomed
1. Chapter 1

_Cold, so, so cold, unbearably cold. Everything dark, nothing light, nothing good, just an endless, endless despair-_

_ "Over there!"_

_Something light, blinding, warmth passing nearby-_

_ "They guard the wizard prison, Azkaban."-_

_ "I heard that boy telling her."_

_"If you're talking about my mum and dad, why don't you just say their names?"-_

_ "Tricked! Ha, he's all right, is he? Going to be back next year, is he? Along with more strange things to cause problems, no doubt. They can keep him! Never want him back in this house again!"_

_"Vernon, someone will hear you! He'll have to come back, people would talk, it would raise questions."-_

Dudley Dursley jerked awake, shivering from the memory. At least tonight he hadn't screamed in his sleep. That'd brought his mother rushing in to comfort it, but had also raised unwanted questions in his mind; questions about Harry.

Dudley had thought more about his cousin in the past weeks than he'd ever thought about him before, and wasn't sure he liked it. But he was certain that Harry, who he'd always regarded as nothing important, had stayed to help him when he didn't need to, had, if Dudley were honest about it, had no reason to stay and help him.

His mother had known about the dementors, had heard someone telling her sister.

His aunt.

He hadn't thought of that, not properly. She'd always been something shadowy, a freak, not to be mentioned. But she was - had been - his aunt.

And when he'd been woken from the first nightmare by his worried mother, it had occurred to him to wonder, for the first time, what it was that Harry's nightmares had been about, the nightmares he'd teased his cousin over, taunted him for having; never had it occurred to him to go and ask if Harry was alright when he was woken by the sounds from his cousin's room, to check he wasn't ill, to assure him that he was safe, and it had just been a dream, nothing to be scared of.


	2. Chapter 2

"Mum, do we - do we know that Harry's back at his school?" She almost dropped the dustpan and brush she'd been putting away, and stared at him for a moment in shock at the fact that he'd expressed concern for his cousin.

"What? Well, of course he was, he was taken away by some of his lot, he'll be there, with all the other freaks."

Slumping at his desk a minute later, trying to do his maths homework, Dudley found himself wondering what it was that 'his lot' did at school. Magic, obviously, but other than that he hadn't got a clue. He remembered Harry protesting one year about his books being taken away, because he had loads of homework to do. What homework could you get for magic? For that matter, what could you do with magic? Another thing he'd never bothered to ask, never bothered to think about.

Until it suited him, until magic interfered with his life. Before the summer, he'd been happy to see Harry locked in his room, yelled at for the smallest of things, had even been annoyed when Harry was given his, Dudley's, second room, to replace his cupboard. Hearing his mother call out a goodbye and shut the door as she went to the shops, Dudley did something he'd never bothered doing before; he went downstairs and looked into the cupboard. So small, and yet, Harry had lived in here? He'd always been smaller then Dudley, but even so. He'd resented his cousin moving from _this _into a room used for storing junk?

Feeling quite ashamed of himself, Dudley returned to his homework.


	3. Chapter 3

Looking over his Christmas presents once more before going to bed, Dudley felt a moment's guilt as he recalled how it had always been him that had all of the presents under the tree, with something cheap and useless, if anything, for Harry. He didn't even know whether they'd sent him a Christmas present. It hadn't been mentioned, and he hadn't thought.

It hadn't just been Christmas, either, now that he thought about it. They'd never, ever done anything for Harry's birthday; the first birthday cake his cousin had ever had must have been the one brought by that giant of a man, the one who'd given Dudley a pig's tail.

And he'd known when it was his cousin's birthday. Hadn't he once pointed this out, _I know what day it is. Today's your birthday,_ but not bothered, never bothered, to think to say happy birthday, or to get him a card, let alone a present.

He lay awake, staring around his room, remembering the times that Harry had watched wistfully as he unwrapped yet another gift, the one time when Harry had joined them for his birthday outing, the times he'd found Harry playing with his old cast off toys - and instantly grabbed them away, telling him that they were 'mine' and that no one was alowed to use them, even when he'd been planning to throw it away.

He hoped that Harry had had a good Christmas this year.


	4. Chapter 4

The house felt different with Harry back; though he stayed in his room all the time, his parents were tense, on edge. Dudley found it unusually annoying, and several times paused outside his cousin's door, poised to knock, ask questions about his world, his life, but never quite mustering the courage to do so.

He cowered on the sofa with his parents from the magic goblets, staring at the tall, crazy figure who'd come to collect Harry, who'd just told them that Harry's godfather was dead.

He saw Harry's expression when his godfather's death came up, saw Harry refuse to meet anyone's eye, and he wanted to say something, anything, but he couldn't quite think of the words. And he realised that Sirius had been one of Harry's shields, brought up only to stop his aunt and uncle from being too harsh, had, Dudley realised, been important to his cousin, and was gone. And of course Harry hadn't said, hadn't mentioned it, because he would have been shouted down for mentioning _his kind_ within their house.

He slipped into his cousin's room, the door of which was still ajar from his surprise departure the evening before. It was empty, or nearly empty. Sticking out from under the bed were a few scraps of newspaper. Dudley picked them up, and dropped them with a yell of surprise.

"Diddikins? What's the matter?"

"Nothing! Uh, stubbed my toe!" He snatched the newspaper back up. Harry's face was staring up out of it at him, looking awkward, next to another moving photo of the wizard who'd collected him. Dudley glanced over the text, then heard his father on the stairs. He quickly stuffed the papers under his arm and took them to his own room to read.

'Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore, for months mocked and degraded, are now figures to inspire admiration; never once have they changed their story, working to alert the wizarding community to the return of He Who Must Not Be Named.

Having fought his way through three terrifying challenges in the Triwizard Tournament, The Boy Who Lived emerged from the final challenge bearing the body of fellow Hogwart's student and competitor Cedric Diggory, and claiming that he had witnessed You-Know-Who return to life.

It is only now, almost a year later, that this has been accepted by the Ministry as true, following a break in at the Department of Mysteries, in which Sirius Black was killed. It has been revealed that Black was an innocent man, convicted of crimes committed by Peter Pettigrew, who was believed until now to have been murdered by Black-'

Dudley dropped the paper again.

Cedric? He knew the name, he'd heard Harry say it, but where?

It came to him with a surge of self disgust. In one of his nightmares last year, the one he, Dudley, had mocked him with. Fellow student. Carrying the body. He must've seen the death, probably only just escaped alive; of course he'd had nightmares about it: who wouldn't?


	5. Chapter 5

When Harry returned home, it was early.

Vernon Dursley complained about it to Petunia, who sniffed and sighed. They'd have to keep the boy for a long summer, as if it wasn't bad enough that they had to put up with him for two months. Dudley read the letter his father angrily discarded. Dumbledore dead. Murdered. Students sent home, changes. He thought about the old wizard sitting on the sofa and making pointed comments. He thought about Harry, Harry with his shields that Dudley had only recently learnt to see. How many were left, he wondered. How many people did Harry have to look after him, to protect him? Dudley knew two names not on that list; he didn't even consider the possibility of his parents being people Harry trusted. For a moment, Dudley felt that he could almost have hated his parents for that. Their own nephew, his cousin, with so little trust in them and so much reason to distrust that rather than being one of his shields, they were some of those to be shielded from.

His mother noticed the change, that he was a little quieter, didn't complain as the time for his cousin's return drew closer. She asked what was wrong, and upon receiving no answer, put it down to fear.

Soon after Harry returned, the news that they were in danger reached them. Kingsley Shacklebolt, who even Mr and Mrs Dursley couldn't help respecting, told them, made plans. Dudley's father switched forwards and backwards, forwards and backwards. Dudley just did what he was told, until the day they were due to leave, when Harry snapped and told them exactly why they had to go. Dudley felt the fear of dying, and saw the glance between his father and Harry. If they were in danger, would Harry come to save them? Dudley wasn't sure. None of them were. So he blurted out that he was going. _Don't want to die. Don't want to know._

Then they were leaving, and suddenly one aspect of the plan he hadn't thought of sprang into clarity.

"What about him?"

The shock on his parents' faces was terrible. They really didn't care. Hadn't cared in the slightest. He could see anger, disbelief, maybe even revulsion, in the eyes of the other wizards. It was deserved.

"I don't hate you."  
He'd finally said it. He'd wanted to, all summer; paused outside the door, then been too afraid. Too afraid of it not being accepted. Too afraid of changing what had been some fundamental _part_ of being a Dursley. He'd said it now. Harry looked shocked, and for a moment, the real weight of how horrible he'd been was clear. He'd tried, so hard, this summer, to make it clear that Harry was his _cousin_, not just some pest – and it had all gone unnoticed, been too little. His mother was sobbing, praising him, and Dudley decided it wasn't worth the energy to explain to her. Not yet. Harry understood, and for now, that would do.


	6. Chapter 6

They wandered around the safe house. Vernon complained about everything magical. Petunia chimed in occasionally, but Dudley noticed that sometimes she would hesitate. A few times he thought he saw something almost hungry in her expression. After a few days, he dared to work up the courage to ask her something.

"Mum, what was Aunt Lily…what was she like?" She dropped what she was holding in shock. The door had been ajar, and he hadn't bothered knocking. She scrambled to pick them up, but he saw the pictures and grabbed one.

"Mum?" He glanced at the back of the picture to be certain. "Lily and James. This…this is their wedding, isn't it?" She took a deep breath.

"Yes. It – I didn't mean to go. But in the end, I went. Mother asked me so many times, and she was at ours afterall, and it was a – well, you keep photos of your sister's wedding."  
"You're lying, aren't you?" He spared a thought to wonder where this perceptiveness had come from. He certainly hadn't been this good at spotting people's feelings in the past.

"I – yes. I went because she was Lily." She didn't stop him from looking at the other photos. There were several of the two sisters as children, happy together, then as teenagers. One or two showed Lily as an adult, and one or two with her husband. One was a baby Harry, with a note on the back in unfamiliar handwriting.

'I know you don't want to hear from us, Tuney. But I think you should still see what your nephew looks like. Isn't he adorable?'

"Did you ever show Harry these?"

"Of course not! Why –"

"Because it's his mum. His mum. Who he never knew. Because you knew her, and you could have told him about her." He put the photos down again, and looked at her steadily. She looked shocked, and maybe a little guilty.

"One question." She nodded silently. "Would she have done this? If you and dad had – died – been murdered, would she have hated me?" The moment of silence stretched. Eventually, she looked away, and shook her head once. Dudley left the room quietly.


	7. Chapter 7

"Dear Harry,

I apologise for bothering you; I know that I am probably not the first person you wish to receive a letter from, particularly when you only recently received the regular Holiday Update.

We had an interesting occurrence the other day; an owl rapped on the window until we let it in. upon doing so, my daughter was agog to see that it carried a letter for her – a letter from a place named Hogwarts, which I must confess she has heard of before, though always as a sort of fairy tale. My wife was more taken aback, as I felt that it was not my place to inform her of your world when we were not directly involved with it.

This does explain a few odd things that have happened. Nothing quite so drastic as releasing a snake and setting it upon her poor defenceless cousin at any rate! Though from what I hear of your lad, he'd come of much the better of any such occurrence.

I was wondering if you would mind coming around for dinner one day, having a word with Lindsey, giving her an idea what to expect, and perhaps some advice for us on what will need doing – getting to the platform, buying equipment and the like?

Hoping you, Ginny and James are well,  
Dudley"


End file.
